


Progressions

by prin_zyth



Category: Seraphina - Rachel Hartman, Shadow Scale - Rachel Hartman
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prin_zyth/pseuds/prin_zyth
Summary: Five times Phina didn’t realize that Selda loved her, and the one time she did.





	Progressions

1)

When Selda first met Phina, she knew that she was the one.

Well, she didn’t know that she was the one, but Selda knew that Phina was going to be her new music teacher. Out of the twenty-seven people auditioning, Seraphina was the only woman, and the only one that Glisselda was going to give a chance. And when she saw her, she knew that she was going to make sure that Phina got that job.

When Selda set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. People often mistook her for girly and weak, but they were wrong. Not about the girly part; but Glisselda was stronger, and smarter, than anyone realized, even her governess, Lady Corongi, her cousin, Lucian, and her grandmother, the Goreddi queen.

Even Seraphina, when she first met her, had mistaken Selda for a flouncy, carefree, spoiled princess. It hadn’t helped matters that Selda had been in the process of carefully arranging a bucket on top of a door to drench the final music candidate, Seraphina herself, in fermented fish. The young woman with brown hair and a simple gown had nearly startled Glisselda off the chair she was standing on.

“St. Daan in a pan! Are you blind?” Selda cried, but she immediately regretted it. The poor girl seemed so nervous already, almost unable to catch her breath.

“Excuse me,” she said, her cheeks a bright shade of red. Glisselda giggled. Maybe she could befriend this girl, whom she instantly knew to be Maid Dombegh, and have some fun, all in one go.

“You are evidently some species of oaf. I suppose you can’t help it.” This girl, Phina, she decided to call her, short for Seraphina, was actually quite tall, which was made even more noticeable by Glisselda’s absurd shortness. She wasn’t pretty, per se, but Selda felt herself drawn to her inexplicably.

Ser-, Phina looked like she was searching for a quick, polite way to extricate herself from the situation. Glisselda smirked; she wasn’t going to be able to get away that easily.

“Take this. You may as well help. You’re tall; I can’t quite reach, even with the chair.”

She recoiled. Was it from the smell of the fish, or had Selda done something wrong? “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. My music teacher—“

She couldn’t let her leave. “That beanpole of a scholar? He’s fine. He tripped over me, too, but we made it up and I sent him on his way.”

“Where is he?” She was certainly persistent, if nothing else.

Glisselda replied, “He’s fine. Your assistance, oaf.”

Phina took the bucket that was thrusted at her. “What do I do with it?”

Glisselda laughed. “What do I do with it, Your Highness,” she said, and Phina’s face went from confusion to embarrassment at her mistake, then back to confusion. Selda realized that Phina had probably assumed that she was at a music lesson. Of course, Glisselda had no intention of giving the other candidates a chance, so she certainly wasn’t going to go to the lessons. Besides, right now, the other candidates were...occupied with other activities that Selda had left for them. She smirked.

Phina was so strangely enchanting. Her awkward curtsy to Selda was shakily endearing; the way she tried to overcompensate for her mistake by saying “Your Highness” after everything was adorable; the way she got all prickly when Selda told her they were pranking the music candidates was cute; the way she seemed startled when Selda told her she liked statecraft was hilarious; and her attempts to compare music to statecraft, hoping to attract Glisselda’s interests...well, those were ridiculous. But she played along. After all, this was her new music teacher, and they were probably going to be spending a lot of time together.

They spent a few marvelous minutes together, playing harpsichord, Seraphina showing Glisselda how to play, constantly awkward, always uncomfortable when Selda teased her. So she did. A lot.

Then Viridius came back. The bucket fell onto him as he walked through the door, and Phina’s look was pure gold: amusement buried in concern for the old man and shame in being associated with this disaster. But when he asked, “Well? How was she?” she could see Phina realize what Selda had done.

Even then, it took a minute before she said, “You knew. You knew I was the candidate all along.”

Glisselda was on her way out the door. She didn’t want this to end, but she knew she’d be able to see Seraphina again. After all, she was her new teacher.

She turned around and winked, but Phina’s head was down and she hadn’t noticed. “Well, of course I did. Diplomacy is only part of statecraft, Seraphina. There’s also spying. Besides, did I ever explicitly state otherwise?” She smiled smugly and skipped out.

And that’s how it began: the story of Glisselda and Seraphina, practically Romeo and Juliet. Except that they were both girls. And they weren’t enemies. And they weren’t star-crossed, hopefully. But Selda knew that this was going to be a great adventure.

Seraphina had a feeling about this, too, although she could not lay a finger on its source. Nor could she see Selda blushing to her ears as she skipped down the hallway.

 

2)

Their music lessons traditionally went like this: Phina would come in and nervously start the lesson; Selda and whatever friend she’d dragged along would gently tease Phina about her appearance, wasting precious lesson time, she insisted; they’d finally get Glisselda focused and get some work done; and then Phina would struggle to end the lesson politely and end up breaking several rules of conduct, making a fool of herself and amusing Selda to no end.

At this particular lesson, Glisselda was having a strangely difficult time on the arpeggios that Phina thought she’d mastered, or at least generally understood. “Phina, put your hands on mine and help me,” she said, giggling. Millie giggled, too, mostly out of a sense of obligation to agree with the princess, but not understanding why she was doing so. Nevertheless, Millie’s nervous laughter amplified Selda’s even further, until both girls were laughing hysterically.

Seraphina looked alarmed, then confused, but said, “Here, give me your hands.” Selda obliged, and Phina guided her through the motions of the piece, Infanta, by Viridius. At this point, the princess was bright red, and tilted her head down and away from her teacher to keep it from showing.

“You were playing these so well at our last lesson,” Seraphina remarked, yanking Glisselda out of the trance she’d fallen into. “What happened?”

“Oh, well, you know,” Glisselda said, struggling to find an answer. “I’ve been...busy? No time to practice, you see.” Phina’s hands were so warm and soft; the princess would have been content to stay there forever, even if her fingers were burning after practicing the patterns for so long.

“Hm,” Phina said, clearly doubtful, but not pushing it. “You are improving; even in the past few minutes, I’ve noticed your technique becoming more accurate and styled.”

“Oh, really?” Glisselda practically squealed, making a point of throwing a few more mistakes into her playing. They worked for a few more minutes until suddenly Seraphina let out a great yawn, clearly exhausted.

Millie laughed and said, “Your music mistress is in need of a nap, and I am in need of a walk; I’ve been sitting here for hours. Come on, let’s go!” Seraphina’s look was of pure and absolute embarrassment, and Selda’s of abject frustration as she glared daggers at Millie, who recoiled in surprise at her friend’s anger. “What?” she added. “It’s not like you like the harpsichord anyway.”

Glisselda slammed her books shut with a bang, then saw the two girls’ startled expressions and tapped it gently as if to overwrite her sudden behavior. “You’re absolutely right, my dear Millie,” she said, plastering a smile onto her face. “Goodbye, Phina, and thank you for the lesson!”

She headed for the door, then turned around and added, “And don’t let me forget! Next time I see you, we’re going to do something about that hair of yours!” She smiled, this time a genuine one, then turned and left for good.

 

3)

In the days leading up to the Treaty Eve celebrations, Selda didn’t practice her harpsichord piece once. Normally she would have a little, more for Phina’s sake than anyone else’s (and Tertius’s, may he rest in the bosom of Allsaints), but she’d been wildly busy with her official princess duties. Of course, as the second heir to the Goreddi throne, it didn’t matter what she did, so long as she played with “conviction,” as Seraphina always insisted. But she determined to make this performance memorable, and the best way to do that was, in her mind, with Phina.

She’d been more scared than she liked to admit, even as a princess. Her royal status was supposed to relieve stagefright, and often it did, but not for this. All of Goredd, or at least all the people with influence at court, were watching her. Seraphina was watching her. Somehow, with Viridius as her teacher, she’d never cared enough to try at all, but with Seraphina, the whole situation was jarringly frightening, and she was simultaneously giddy with excitement and trembling with anxiety and exhaustion. She kissed her teacher’s cheek, indulging in something that she could not have, but desperately wanted, before walking out.

When she sat down she nearly fainted. When she opened the book, she almost knocked it off the stand. When she went to lift up the harpsichord cover, she dropped it and barely kept it from slamming shut on her fingers.

But when she played, it was...calm. Everything seemed right. She wasn’t a good player, and she knew that. But she was competent, she was generally accurate, and she’d done her best. Her performance was met with thunderous applause. St. Masha’s stone, she’d survived. Well, that wasn’t certain quite yet. She knew Phina wouldn’t be mad about her performance, but she might be about what she about to do.

The audience seemed surprised that she hadn’t left the stage yet. She mustered all the courage she could, took a deep breath, and began. “Thank you for your generous applause. I hope you’ve saved some, however, for the person most deserving of it, my music teacher, Seraphina Dombegh!” The crowd clapped again, and she began to relax. She could do this. She had to, for Seraphina.

She turned to Seraphina, watching in shocked silence from offstage. She waved to her, but Seraphina didn’t budge. Finally, in desperation, she strode off the stage, grabbed her teacher’s arm, and walked her back onto the stage. Seraphina balked.

“I hope Maid Dombegh will forgive me for interrupting her careful scheduling, but you all deserve some excellent music as a reward for sitting through my paltry offering: a performance from Seraphina. And please, help me petition the Queen to make Phina a court composer, the equal of Viridius. She’s too good to be merely his assistant!” She was much more comfortable now, and the audience was laughing, even grumpy, old Viridius.

She turned to Phina, who looked worried. No, nauseated; she looked like she was going to be sick. “I didn’t bring any of my instruments down,” she began hesitantly.

Glisselda giggled at Phina’s excuse, which she’d been counting on. She replied in a whisper. “Well, there’s a harpsichord right behind us, silly. And I confess: I took the liberty of fetching your flute and your oud. You choose.”

To her surprise, Phina took the oud. She hoped she wasn’t mad, but she didn’t regret it. Phina’s performance that night was...well, indescribable. And she didn’t just play; she sang, and her voice was simply magical. Glisselda was absolutely enchanted, and found herself gawping at the performance. She wasn’t the only one; she glanced up at Lucian, standing beside her with his arm around her waist, and his expression matched her feelings exactly. A pang of jealousy struck her, and she shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

When she finished, Selda was hesitant to clap, feeling like she would be somehow violating the atmosphere that Phina’s music had created. But then she did, and the audience, as if awoken from a dream, followed her lead, applauding louder than she could ever imagine, yet nowhere near what Phina deserved.

It was over, now; no more kisses on cheeks, no more singing, no more relaxing...she had to get back to watching Comonot, who might be attacked any time now. It made her impossibly sad to let this moment go. 

But she couldn’t stay here forever. After all, Lucian was still holding her, and he was still staring at Phina in the exact same way as Glisselda. It was still Treaty Eve, and Comonot was still in grave danger. But a moment ago, she’d been able to simply forget it all. Phina was just able to do that to people.

 

4)

It ended up being a very long night.

Comonot was not attacked, in fact, but others were. Including the second heir herself, who was suddenly abducted by her governess, Lady Corongi, not just a man, but a saar in disguise. She was carried out of the castle by the banished general Imlann, followed closely by Lucian and Seraphina.

She did not see Seraphina reaching out in her mind to her fellow ityasaari, a young Porphyrian boy and a Samsamese bagpiper. She did not see her kiss her cousin Lucian before running out into the snow. But she did see, and hear, Seraphina declare herself to be Imlann’s granddaughter.

When Lucian finally reached her and freed her, stabbing at the dragon’s foot so he’d release her, he told her that Phina was bluffing. “I’ve seen her do it before. It’s her particular talent.”

Selda had never seen Phina bluff on such a scale before, but she’d seen her lie. Something felt so wrong about what her cousin was saying, but she didn’t know why. Surely, what her teacher was saying could not be possible. It couldn’t. There was no way. She asked him to go fetch Seraphina. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t breathe.

Lucian called out to her. He told her to come inside. She didn’t. Why wouldn’t she come inside?

She was watching dragons, fighting in the sky. Her gra- Imlann, and her unc- teacher. That was it, of course. There was a third dragon now. Selda called out to them, asking who it was.

Lucian added, unhelpfully, “It’s hovering uselessly.” The princess cringed at her cousin calling the dragon it, but said nothing. “If it were an embassy dragon, I’d expect it to side with your teacher.”

Glisselda forced herself to look at Phina. Before even Lucian, she knew what was coming.

“He’s my uncle.” She still didn’t want to believe it, but the silver scales Seraphina revealed on her wrist removed all doubt about her true nature.

It all really did make sense once Glisselda thought about it. The lying became an act of self defense; the prickliness a kind of camouflage; the talent a bright red flag that Phina had often tried to keep buried. It was something that she desperately needed to talk about, to work through. But her mother had just died, her grandmother was incapacitated, and she, at the age of 15, had become the acting queen of Goredd. She had things to do and discuss. She had a queendom to lead.

She saw Phina again the next day at a meeting with Count Pesavolta of Ninys and the Regent of Samsam. She had set out to defend her teacher, and all those like her, but fell flat on her face in the attempt. She hated to admit it, but she was ashamed to know this girl, ashamed to be in any way associated with her. She let Phina and her father stand up for themselves. She figured that if she didn’t side either way then her actions wouldn’t have any negative impact. She was wrong.

At first, upon learning Phina’s true nature, she thought she wouldn’t want to speak to her ever again. And now, she felt that Phina must feel the same toward her. She cried that afternoon, Millie at her side. In spirit, she cried for her dead mother. In truth, she cried for love.

Millie was a good friend, but she didn’t understand. When Seraphina entered her suite, Millie stood up, prepared to defend Selda. The princess almost thought she needed defense, at first. She thought the music mistress would be angry. But when she saw Phina, her face showed no malevolent intentions, just regret. And loss.

So she hugged her. It took effort; she was so prejudiced about dragons already. And Seraphina was...well, it didn’t matter anymore. She’d already decided not to care, or at least not to let it keep her from loving this girl. She held her tight, wanting to kiss her, but knowing she couldn’t. She was the first heir, and engaged. And Phina was, among other things, a girl. Goredd was better than some other places, but people were still old-fashioned. Her grandmother, the queen, depended on her. It was selfish for her to love this girl. But she let herself just for a moment more, then squeezed her once and let go.

“It wasn’t so difficult to accept,” she lied. It had been beyond difficult to accept, even before she knew what she was. “It was simply a matter of will,” she added, telling the truth this time.

She could tell Phina was uncomfortable, and Millie’s glares weren’t doing her any good. She sent the music mistress off to fetch her cousin, knowing that he, too, needed to see and talk to her, as much as it pained her.

She sighed.

 

5)

Once the war started, everything went downhill for Goredd. Of course, there were the obvious reasons: the change in leadership, the violence and destruction, the increased tensions and conflict among the populace. But the acting, then actual queen also fell into a depression that could only be explained as the result of the death of her mother, Princess Dionne. But in truth, Glisselda was heartsick for someone who was on a journey far, far away. Selda missed Phina with all her heart. That time while she was away simultaneously passed in a blur and dragged on forever for Glisselda. In retrospect, she realized that that was the reason that she was able to fall prey so easily to Jannoula, who entered the queendom, and Glisselda’s mind, normally guarded, with ease.

 

1)

Seraphina and Lucian were in love. She wasn’t surprised, exactly, but she wasn’t expecting it. Everything had been simple (comparably) before she’d found out. Before Jannoula had taken it upon herself to break up their trio, the two cousins and the girl they both loved. Before whatever hopes she had of having her affection reciprocated were crushed in one fell swoop.

It was never easy, per se, but it was comfortable, at least for the present. And although Selda was ashamed to admit it, she was okay with things remaining comfortable. But Jannoula, within their group, represented the unpleasant tension, always just beneath the surface, ready to spring out of hiding at any time.

She found she couldn’t be mad at them. She knew what it was like to have a secret. Not one like Seraphina’s, but one like Lucian’s. She had one herself. She decided to forgive them, but then she realized she didn’t need to, exactly. They didn’t need to be forgiven; they needed to be understood and accepted. Somehow, it was so much worse to not be able to hold their love against them. But it opened up a door for Glisselda, one that she never would have opened on her own.

She had to tell her, for both of their sakes.

Alberdt brought Seraphina to the queen. For a moment, she considered backing out. Maybe, she thought, pushing Phina away is the best course of action for everyone. But when she saw the music mistress’s face, shameful and filled with regret, she couldn’t. That left only one option: the truth. Funny, she realized, that so often the truth is our last choice, when it should be our first.

She motioned for Alberdt to go back upstairs, then turned to Phina, filled with excitement and fear, all at once. What should she start with? Small talk?

“He’s been so helpful,” she began, trying to smile. “He’s not immune to Jannoula’s glamour--none of us are--but it’s harder to manipulate where she can’t communicate. She hasn’t bothered to learn his finger speech, thank Allsaints in Heaven.”

She didn’t want it to come. She almost hoped Seraphina wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t apologize, but she knew it was coming, and that it had to, and they’d be better off for it. Comfortable was more pleasant, but nothing ever got done, and no one was ever truly happy.

It came. “I am so very sorry--”

Glisselda held up her hand, and Seraphina stopped mid-sentence. “Don’t,” she said, filled with sadness but recognizing that they’d gone down the rabbit hole and couldn’t go back. “Lucian confessed all. I don’t mind about that,” she said (lying). “He’s like my own brother--but I need to know,” she steeled herself, “do you love him?”

She saw the response in Phina’s eyes before she heard it from her lips. “Yes.”

“Then there is nothing else to say. Lucian wins. Long live Lucian.”

She couldn’t keep doing this. She’d have to revisit this conversation later. She turned the conversation around, changed it to Jannoula, Orma, the Guard, the war. She grabbed her arm because she couldn’t kiss her.

Seraphina, as it turned out, wasn’t going to do the same thing. As they parted, she said, “Thank you. And I’m still sorry.”

The queen tried to play it cool, but nearly started crying. “Feh. Just remember, Seraphina, as if it could change anything,” like your feelings toward me, she added internally, “it was me who rescued you, not Lucian. That silly boy is upstairs, convinced that he has resisted Jannoula’s charms and that he can save her--and you, and everyone--if he can make her see reason. She uses our best qualities against us.”

“Which of your qualities has she used against you?” Phina asked. She said it quietly, like it something personal and revealing. In fact, Selda realized, it was. She had to be careful, or something was going to slip out that she hadn’t intended.

“My heart, alas,” she began, regretting it instantly. This was it. Blue St. Prue, this was it. He took a breath and went on. “She talks about you, and tells me how sad she is that you despise her, and then I pity her, because it would be a terrible thing to lose your...I mean…”

Her cheeks burned. What had she done? She had to do it now, before she messed this up even more.

She stamped her foot. “Bah! You and Lucian are so very smart, but you walk around with your eyes closed.” Seraphina still looked confused. Why was she confused. Should Selda clarify what she meant? She couldn’t bear to do it, not verbally. She thought she might cry. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh m-

She leaned up and kissed her, then stepped back, frightened. She scanned the girl’s face for any sign of...anything. Acceptance, rejection? There was nothing written there.

“Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed “Progressions”! This was my first story ever, and it took me a long time to write. I am currently working on a high school AU for Seraphina because none exists so far.
> 
> UPDATE: I started the high school AU. I hated it. I deleted it. I might try to write another one, but, turns out, I suck at writing fanfiction, especially romance, because of my lack of experience with it and the fact that I am somewhere on the aromantic/grey-romantic spectrum, I believe. (Still figuring it out.)


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